


Just another Fallow Field

by KillingKathy



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7596406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillingKathy/pseuds/KillingKathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1000 years later, they meet on a train</p><blockquote>
  <p> Dezel’s eyes are yellow, hazy, and they stare at him with such an intensity that Zaveid has to look away.<br/>Everything suddenly catches up to him--they’re here, in Rose’s bedroom, lights dim and muted against the blistering moonlight slicing through the window, Dezel staring at him through yellow-white eyes, and for a moment, Zaveid can’t breathe. </p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	Just another Fallow Field

[1000 years later, they meet on a train.]

 

It’s strange, how Zaveid notices him. 

 

A tipped hat, figure slouched against the glossy glass of the train door--there’s nothing particular or outstanding about this man, but for some inexplicable reason, he makes the hairs on the back of Zaveid’s neck rise, makes his arms chill with goosebumps and head spin with  _ confusion _ . 

 

He wants to get closer. 

 

The train rumbles through a tunnel, jostling its passengers as it takes a particularly rough turn, and Zaveid thinks of feigning a stumble when the man tilts his head up and  _ looks directly at him _ . 

 

Now there’s nothing he can do but sheepishly grin. “Some...rough turn that was, eh?” 

 

The man sniffs, and for the first time Zaveid notices that his eyes are hidden behind long, coarse bangs. 

“Just watch where you’re going,” he grumbles, and Zaveid chuckles nervously.  _ By God is this guy an ass.  _

 

“Sorry,” He apologizes again, rubbing the back of his head. “Had a rough night, last night.” 

 

“Did you?” The stranger grunts, crossing gloved arms tightly across his chest, the obvious picture of disinterest. 

 

“Yeah,” Zaveid barrels on. “Was at a club last night, and  _ man _ , what a night. That’s just what women do to you, ya know?” 

 

The man tilts his head; a single, cold eye glares at him. “Good for you,” he snaps, and it’s clear to anyone that he desperately wants this mess of a conversation to be over. 

 

But Zaveid was never one for tact. “Isn’t it? Clubs are the  _ best.  _ There’s no one looking for any of that relationship crap, and you can get as drunk as-” 

 

“ _ Will you please stop talking to me?!”  _ The stranger snaps, hat skewed on his head as he leans closer, scowling. “Do you make it your hobby to tell strangers on the train what you did last night?!” 

 

Zaveid can only stare dumbly back at him. “You have funny eyes,” he says, and the man’s face gets contorted in  _ such an expression of rage  _ that Zaveid is terrified that he’ll get a fist in the face if he doesn’t run, and fast. 

 

Thankfully, luck is on his side, and the train grinds to a slow halt, doors sliding open.  _ Arriving at Pendragon Square _ , the voice over the PA system announces, and Zaveid  _ scrambles.  _

 

The doors barely close behind him as he gets through, and when he chances a glance back at the train, the strange man is grumbling to himself, yanking his hat further down his face. 

 

He goes home with a strange feeling in his chest. 

______________

 

A week later, and Zaveid finds himself at Rose’s party. 

“Exams are over!” She bellows, holding her cup high. Everyone cheers, clicking plastic cups as the room disperses into conversation. 

 

Zaveid is just making his way over to the group of girls in the corner when he catches a glimpse of a dark jacket in the doorway.  _ There’s no way in hell-- _

 

“Dezel!” Rose cheers. “Everyone!” She wraps an arm around him. “Dezel is here!” 

 

Zaveid looks around the room frantically, but no one seems perturbed by the man’s sudden appearance. 

 

“Oy, Sorey!” He hisses, grabbing him by the arm. “Who the hell is this new guy?” 

 

“Don’t you remember?” Sorey says as if it’s obvious. 

 

“No, I’m pretty sure I would remember--” 

 

“Sorey, do you want to-” Mikleo taps Sorey on the shoulder. “Oh, hi Zaveid.” 

 

“Mikey boy!” Zaveid sighs in relief. “Mind explaining who that guy is?” 

 

Mikleo squints, leaning over Sorey’s shoulder to see. “That’s Rose’s friend, isn’t it? I thought he was studying abroad,” He says to Sorey. “Why is he back?” 

 

“Finished his term, apparently.” Sorey looks over too. “He’s done with school already,” he sighs in obvious envy. 

 

“Hey, we haven’t learned about the Age of Chaos, right? That should be interesting,” Mikleo says, patting Sorey’s back reassuringly. 

 

“I guess,” Sorey says with a pout. “I just want to go exploring already.” 

 

“I know, I know,” Mikleo starts to say, and Zaveid shakes his head and turns to leave. The two are good as gone when they get started on archeology, and hell if he’s going to get dragged into another hour long conversation about ruins again. 

 

He doesn’t look where he’s going, and suddenly there’s a  _ crash  _ and an angry yell of  _ What the  _ **_hell_ ** _ are you doing  _ and water is soaking his shirt and pants and  _ oh god  _ Dezel is standing in front of him, similarly soaked with a terrifying expression on his face. 

 

They stand there in silence for a moment. 

 

“Well, this is a coincidence,” Zaveid starts to say, when Dezel’s fist comes out of nowhere and connects to his face with a solid  _ thwap.  _

 

Thirty minutes later, they’re standing in Rose’s tiny bedroom, Zaveid crouching to avoid bumping into the ceiling and massaging his aching nose. 

“Ughhhhh,” He groans, collapsing on Rose’s bed, gazing at Dezel with long-suffering eyes. “What the hell was that down there?” 

 

“Just be lucky it was only once,” Dezel snarks without turning around. He’s fishing in Rose’s bureau for something. 

“Whatcha looking for?” Zaveid cranes his neck to look up at him. “Her panties?” He grins. “Because I can definitely help-” 

Dezel turns around with a first aid kit in his hand that he tosses to Zaveid without a second glance. 

 

“...Oh.” 

 

Dezel grunts, crossing his arms and leaning against the dresser. 

“This is so weird,” Zaveid mutters, sitting up on the bed, first aid kit in his lap. “You know, when I was thinking of being in Rose’s bedroom, this wasn’t exactly the scenario-” 

 

“Shut up.” Dezel snarls, kicking the bed. “Hurry up and get patched up.” 

 

“Oy, you’re the one who punched me in the first place-” 

 

“ _ You’re  _ the one who spilled a whole punch bowl  _ everywhere _ -” 

 

“Not on purpose-” 

 

“You called my eyes weird-” 

 

“What else was I supposed to say you literally told me to piss off!” 

 

“ _ Then why didn’t you?!”  _

 

They’re both shouting, leaning closer threateningly. Zaveid is the one to back down first--how were you supposed to win a staring competition against someone with no eyes-and looks down at the first aid kit on the bed. 

 

He fumbles with the clasp, feeling more awkward than ever in his life, and finally Dezel gives a sigh and comes to sit next to him on the bed, taking the kit from his fingers. 

 

Zaveid watches as the other deftly opens the kit and takes out an alcohol wipe, reaching his face. 

 

Dezel’s fingers bump against his nose, and Zaveid flinches. “Geez, your fingers are  _ freezing _ -” 

 

“That’s what usually happens when someone pours a whole bowl of punch on you, you know.” He says matter-of-fact, and moves to rub the pad on his cheek. 

 

“Um, Dezel….” 

 

“What?” He snaps, thoroughly exasperated. 

 

“The bruise is on my other cheek…..”  

 

Dezel’s fingers still, and Zaveid looks at him in confusion. He moves closer slowly, reaching up and taking off Dezel’s hat. 

 

“What’re you doing?” Dezel mumbles, but Zaveid shushes him, moves his hand to part his bangs. 

 

Dezel’s eyes are yellow, hazy, and they stare at him with such an intensity that Zaveid has to look away. 

Everything suddenly catches up to him--they’re here, in Rose’s bedroom, lights dim and muted against the blistering moonlight slicing through the window, Dezel staring at him through yellow-white eyes, and for a moment, Zaveid can’t breathe. 

 

“You’re blind,” Zaveid chokes out dumbly, and Dezel bristles, knocking his hand away. 

 

The moment’s broken, and Dezel shoves his hat back on, alcohol wipes still in hand. “Thanks for pointing that out, genius.” 

 

“But how, what-” 

 

“Shut up,” Dezel says again, grabbing his chin roughly in hand as he moves to wipe the bruise. 

 

Zaveid lets him, and they sit in silence for awhile. “Hey, you got it right this time,” he remarks. 

 

He supposes he deserves the second slap. 

 

“Are you guys alright?” Rose asks as they go back downstairs. The party’s more or less dissipated, save a few voices in the foyer. 

 

“All good here,” Zaveid reassures her with a wink. “Just missing the company of my lady friends.” 

 

Rose groans. “Yeah, you’re no different. Sorry your first impression had to be so bad,” she says to Dezel. “But he’s not a bad guy, really.” 

 

“Really,” Dezel mutters, crossing his arms and giving Zaveid a side look. “Heh heh,” Zaveid rubs his head, sheepish. “You’re too kind to me, Rose.” 

 

She smiles, putting a hand on her hip. “Actually, would you mind showing Dezel around town? I would come, but I already promised Lailah and Edna that I would go with them to this movie…” 

 

“Rose, I would rather-” 

 

“Of course!” Zaveid swings an arm around Dezel’s shoulders. “Anything for my Rose.” 

 

She rolls her eyes affectionately at him. “Thanks a million,” she calls over her shoulder. “I would ask Sorey or Mikleo, but god knows what they’re up to.” 

 

“God only knows,” Zaveid says. “They’re gone all the time anyway.” 

 

She gently shoos them out her door. “Begone, foul hellion,” she says affectionately. “See you tomorrow.” 

 

Zaveid turns to give her a wave, then elbows Dezel, hands in his pockets. “Where to?” 

 

“I don’t care.” Dezel grumbles. “It’s not like I’ll be staying here for long anyway.” 

 

“Really? Where’re you going?” They start walking, shoulders bumping under the lamplight. 

 

“I don’t know...wherever the wind takes me, I guess.” 

 

They stop at an intersection, and Zaveid pushes the WALK button. “Rose seems so happy with you here, though.” 

 

Dezel scuffles his feet. “It’s not like she won’t be happy without me.” 

 

“But it’s different, isn’t it?” The light turns green, and they start walking. “Rose would be happy without me too, but she still wants me here regardless.” 

 

“Hell knows why,” Dezel mumbles under his breath, and Zaveid shoves him playfully. “Hey, watch it.” 

 

“She’s better off without me,” The other says, stubborn, and Zaveid groans. “Could you have thought of another more cliche quote?” 

 

“There’s a reason it’s used so often.” 

 

“Well, I call bullshit.” 

 

Dezel opens his mouth to protest, but closes it quickly. “Just walk me to my hotel, would you. That’s enough sightseeing for tonight.” 

 

“But we’ve only passed by a burger stop-” 

 

“I think McRonalds is enough of an iconic landmark to be considered sightseeing,” Dezel shrugs. “Besides, I’m tired.” He says it quieter, and Zaveid looks at him in silence. “Sure,” he says, and bumps shoulders with him one more time before they turn across a street. 

 

They talk about everything. 

 

Zaveid starts confessing things he didn’t even know, like how he was scared of earthquakes-- _ but rain, rain is the best-- _ and how he tells everyone he prefers to be shirtless in the summer to draw in women, but it was actually because that summer he accidently ripped all his shirts and didn’t have anything to wear,

 

And Dezel, he talks about his studies abroad and all the places he traveled, and later, his feeling of inferiority, and quietly, how he sometimes thinks he’ll never be good enough, and Zaveid tells him  _ You know, sometimes I feel the same way,  _ and Dezel turns and gives him a small smile, and somehow, it’s enough. 

 

They finally reach Dezel’s hotel, and it’s quiet, apricot lamplight backlighting the cars in the parking lot, shimmering reflections on the glossy lake. 

 

“Well, thanks for tonight.” Dezel says, and reaches out his hand to shake. 

 

Zaveid looks at it in disbelief. “Seriously?” 

 

“Well??” Dezel scowls. “Don’t make this any more awkward than it is.” 

 

“You know, I feel like I should kiss you.” 

 

“ _.......What _ .” Dezel crosses his arms. “Have you gone mad?”

 

Zaveid feels his own forehead. “Nope.” 

 

“Aren’t you the lady pervert?” 

 

“I am, yeah.” 

 

“Then?” 

 

“This is different, I think.” 

 

“How? You do know, I’m a guy.” 

 

“I know.” 

 

“We literally just met.” 

 

“I know.” 

 

“Then?” Dezel waits for an answer, but when Zaveid simply shrugs, he sighs. “Good night, Zaveid.” 

 

When Zaveid doesn’t move, Dezel turns back and scowls. “Seriously, get lost.” 

 

“Not until I get that kiss.” Zaveid taps his finger on his lips, winking. 

 

“Can’t you run off and kiss someone else?” 

 

“Don’t make this any more awkward than it already is,” Zaveid echos. 

 

Dezel hesitates. He  _ knows  _ this is a bad idea, he  _ knows  _ he shouldn’t do it, but he turns around, walks up to Zaveid until they’re practically nose to nose. He can feel the warmth of his chest, can feel him breathing. “Well? Hurry up.” Dezel grumbles, shifting his feet. 

 

“You do it.” 

 

“You’re not  _ serious _ , are you? God I have half a mind to just-” Dezel grinds his heel into the dirt. “You know what, fine.” 

 

He gropes around for Zaveid’s hair and pulls their lips together. It’s awkward at first, and Dezel finds himself kissing the corner of his lip, panic rising in his chest. Wordlessly, Zaveid cups his cheek, covers his lips fully with his, puts the other hand on Dezel’s lower back. 

 

It’s a soft, chaste kiss. 

 

They separate, and Dezel can feel Zaveid staring at him. “You know, that was less weird than I thought it was going to be,” Zaveid muses, and Dezel grumbles. “Lips are lips, aren’t they?” 

 

“But oddly sweet.” Zaveid continues, and Dezel falls silent. 

 

“....Good night,” He says finally, and turns to walk up the hotel stairs. 

 

“You know, I really like your eyes,” Zaveid calls after him. 

 

“Go away,” Dezel groans, but when he collapses in his bed, he can’t help the small smile on his face. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Um. I started Tales of Zestria without knowing what to expect...but yeah. Damn. It's pretty fantastic. I'm pretty sure at this point I ship Zaveid with everyone.  
> Not sure if this will be a multi-chapter, but i'll leave it open-ended just in case inspiration takes me


End file.
